


Our Way is the Old Way

by Cliffhanger247



Series: A Song of Ice and Fury [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Erik Stark - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Northern focus, OC centric, Original House, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robb’s twin brother Erik!, Starks are awesome, altered history, nothing is the same as canon!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliffhanger247/pseuds/Cliffhanger247
Summary: Book I of an AU series of A Song of Ice and Fire, where little baby Rickon Stark is replaced by the second trueborn son of Eddard and Catelyn, Erik Stark! After six years away from Winterfell, spent wandering the north and the lands beyond the Wall, honing his skills and abilities, Erik has been summoned back to his childhood home by his lord father. What happens when the Lone Wolf finally returns to the Pack?





	1. Chapter 1.1 - Erik I

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve been actively reading on Ao3 for about a month now. And finally I decided to make an account and post my ASoIaF fic on here. OW2 is already uploaded on FanFiction.Net under the same username, and it’s currently at chapter 7, at the time of me writing this Author’s Note and posting chapter 1 on this site.
> 
> Since I started writing this, I’ve read numerous more ASoIaF fanfics and have been greatly inspired by many of them to write and better my own story. You may see somethings that are similar to other fics like this or fics that can be roped into the same category of ASoIaF fics. Though, hopefully, this fic can be set apart from the rest of those fics as the story unfurls.
> 
> I hope to make this a series of sorts. Our Way is the Old Way (OW2) is book one and follows secondson Erik Stark and his return to Winterfell after almost six years of being away. This fic will mostly be introducing Erik and the changes I’ve made to the North for this universe (there’s quite a few changes I’ve made). It should span from Erik’s return to Winterfell all the way to the Bran’s first POV in A Game of Thrones from ASoIaF, where they execute the deserter. Then book two will start and a new main character and new POVs will be explored. The main character or POV should change every book (I’m not sure how many books there will be) though I will continue to use the major POV characters in the other books to come. (Sorry if that was confusing) 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy this! Please feel free to let me know what y’all think about the fic in the comments and reviews (or whatever this site calls them lol). Enjoy! (:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik Stark receives a summons from his father, Lord Eddard Stark, and looks towards home. Towards Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well I’ve changed a few things from the original chapter 1. I’ve lowered the ages back down to the book canon ages and I have made Erik Robb’s younger twin brother. The reason he was not named Brandon is because Cat still considered herself in love with and grieving Brandon. So she thought to honor Brandon and Ned’s father: Rickard.
> 
> So the children’s ages are as follows:
> 
> Robb - 14
> 
> Erik - 14
> 
> Jon - 14
> 
> Sansa - 11
> 
> Arya - 9
> 
> Bran - 7
> 
> Likewise,
> 
> Joffrey is 13
> 
> Marcella is 8
> 
> And Tommen is 6
> 
> For their parents,
> 
> Ned is 34
> 
> Cat is 33
> 
> Robert is 35
> 
> Cersei and Jaime are 31
> 
> I’ll try to include various other character ages as they are introduced.

## Chapter 1.1

###  ⇔ Erik I ⇔

The cool sea breeze rolled off of the Bay of Ice, catching the white sails of _Gypsy Danger_ , propelling the longship across the water. The cold, cutting winds nipped at Erik’s face but the salty spray barely stung his eyes anymore. Stormy grey eyes crowned by finely shaped, dark brown eyebrows that matched his unruly hair in color, stared out over the waves, towards the green land, towards his home. His father had finally called him back to Winterfell. He was finally returning to his home, after so many years being away. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out why his father had summoned him back to Winterfell at this time. Erik knew his father had caught wind of his voyage to the Iron Islands. Lady Maege had most likely written to his father informing him of the events of the past few weeks. If his father knew of his departure than he most likely knew about the sacking of Old Wyk at Erik’s hand. _“The same hands stained with the blood of my beautiful Lyra....”_

He clenched his jaw, setting it in a hard line and his stormy grey eyes narrowed as he grit his teeth. The wolfsblood stirring in his veins at the memory of his lost love laying beaten, bloodied, and broken. Only tatters of clothing clinging to her violated body which lay still and unmoving in a pool of her own blood. The same beautiful body that had once kept him warm during the cold nights on Bear Island.

His gloved grip tightened around the hilt of his new sword. Erik had claimed the sword after avenging his late lover. _“When I arrive at Winterfell I’ll have the hilt and pommel changed into something less gaudy.”_

Since he’d been fighting in battles since before he saw his ten-and-second name day, Erik had learned that, when it came to weapons; simplicity is much better for combat. A sword is a tool to be put to use, not a piece of art to be put on display. That and he preferred to be able to smash skulls in with the pommel of his sword just as much as chopping limbs off with the blade. He couldn’t do that with the overly extravagant hilt that currently decorated _Red Rain_. He had no use for the more refined and lavish things that they so adored down south. Although, Erik would be lying if he said he wasn’t mesmerized by the swirling, patterns of the Valyrian steel blade. The spellforged sword had a deep crimson tint in the smoky color which give the swirling metal a permanent bloody hue.

“Worried about how your mother will react to you stealing a Noble House’s Valyrian steel?” A female’s voice called to him from over his shoulder.

Turning away from the prow of the longship and the mainland in the distance, Erik came to face a lanky woman, standing slightly taller than himself. While not as beautiful as her late younger sister, Dacey Mormont was still quite a handsome woman, her long dark brown hair fell down, past her shoulders to her mid-back. Her eyes weren’t the same shade of brown as his beloved Lyra though. Dacey was garbed in leather armor with her mace strapped to her hip. She was rather elegant despite being clad in armor more often than a dress. She and Erik had fought and killed wildlings together even before the Ironborn thought they could steal Lady Maege’s younger daughters and get away with it. Erik was quick to give chase and Dacey was just as quick to join him in rescuing her little sisters. After his time on Bear Island, Erik considered her to be a fierce friend and elder sister figure.

Erik offered her a crooked smirk, contorting his long face. “Aye, though truly I’m worried about how my father will react. He was always the one to fret over me ‘n’ hearin’ the tale of how I took the blade will no doubt have him turnin’ grey from stress.” Erik turned his stormy grey gaze back over the frigid blue-green waters of the Bay of Ice, eyes fixed on the approaching shore.

Dacey stepped forward and stood next to him. Turning her deep brown gaze out towards the mainland, Dacey voiced the question on her mind. “Do you intend to remain at Winterfell or will you return to Bear Island?” Her voice held a hint of sadness and Erik knew what she was truly asking.

He nodded slowly, “Winterfell is my home, even if I haven’t been there in almost six years. I plan to remain in Winterfell for some time, though I will return to Bear Island on occasion, to pay my respects…” He admitted, the crooked smile falling from his handsome face, replaced by a deep frown.

In truth, Erik wasn’t sure how long he would remain in Winterfell once he arrived. His father had spoken of the Moat in his letter and Erik expected that was another reason for which his father called him back home now, after all this time. Even though it hurt him to leave Bear Island so soon, he was still grieving, the prospect of returning to his childhood home filled him with a childish giddiness.

The last time he had been at Winterfell, he had been leaving the only home he had ever known to go live in a place of swamps, marshes, and bogs, all so strange and alien to him. At the time, it had been so horribly terrifying and yet so irrationally exciting. However, that was almost six years ago and so much could happen in six years. Erik could attest to _that_ much after his travels over the years. He had left Winterfell, a young boy barely eight years of age with only his natural talent with the sword and horseback riding, to hone an ability which he wasn’t sure was even real or that he even possessed. And now he was returning, a man grown at the age of five-and-ten - well, almost - with more knowledge and skills than he had ever imagined possessing before he left Winterfell.

Erik had definitely grown up since leaving his childhood home. He had traveled the lands of north of the Wall, met its people, hunted its game, caught its fish, climbed its mountains and trees, drank from and swam in its waters. He had survived and adapted to the lands and to combat against both man, beast, and the elements themselves, having fought both on land and on the sea. He had become familiar with the feelings of hopelessness and despair, as well as joy and relief. He had experienced love, for however brief and beautiful it had been, and now he had come to know loss and the overwhelming pain it brought. In the past few weeks grief and rage had become his constant companions and he carried them with him like a pair of anvils set upon his shoulders.

While recalling how much the past six years of his life had changed him, Erik couldn’t help but wonder how much the time apart had changed everyone else. Based on how much Erik had changed, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one even recognized him when he arrived at the gates of Winterfell. He couldn’t wait to look upon his father’s face once more, or embrace his mother in a loving hug and bury his face in her brilliant red hair, though he was probably taller than his mother now.

Erik couldn’t wait to spar with his brothers: his twin brother Robb, and half-brother Jon Snow, once more. He wondered if he would throw them in the dirt with all the techniques and tricks he had learned and picked up over the years. Oh, how terribly Erik wanted to hug upon his sister, Arya, maybe he’d sneak her off and begin teaching her archery when he returned, he always promised her he would before he had left to be fostered at Greywater Watch. And Bran, oh Gods… Sweet, young Bran, he had been naught but a babe when Erik had left Winterfell.

Erik suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his heart for not being there for his baby brother as he grew up, Erik wasn’t there for any of his siblings when they needed him. He had been studying, training, growing in strength and ability for three years before his ranging beyond the Wall. Wandering and searching for an answer to his _dreams_ in the snow and ice. Because of that he had strayed too far. He had left the pack. And he had become strong, hardened by the cold, a lone wolf. The Lone Wolf was now returning to his pack, in hopes that they had not forgotten about him. 

Erik promised himself at that moment that he would spend as much time reuniting with his siblings as possible. He was desperate to be apart of their lives again after so many years of being away. He could scarcely remember their faces… in his dreams his family was always represented by a pack of wolves. He could tell which wolf was who with ease in his _dreams_ and he wondered if he would be able to recall his real siblings as easily as he did, the wolf siblings from his dreams.

Erik attempted to conjure the images of his siblings’ faces in his mind the closer his ship got to the green land; Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and even his half-brother Jon Snow. He could see them, if he thought hard enough, if he remembered hard enough. He thought back deeply, but Erik could only imagine what they all looked like now. He had missed them all terribly, thinking of them every day and dreaming of their faces and voices every night. He knew his far too few letters home throughout the length of his journey had no doubt left his family worried and wondering of his safety and well-being. Despite how much love his entire family had for him, Erik knew his father was probably the most worried. Lord Eddard had always held Erik in special regard.

Though in truth, his father loved all of his siblings just as fiercely as the next, including his bastard brother Jon Snow (perhaps especially Jon Snow), Erik knew this. But whenever he would look at Erik, Lord Eddard’s eyes would always gleam with a strange emotion hidden behind his solemn face. It was as if he was meeting a old friend even though Erik was only his son. _“You remind me so much of your uncle Brandon when he was a boy.”_ his father used to tell him when he was younger. After his time at Greywater Watch, Erik had come to _see_ what his father had meant by those words.

Erik missed all his family dearly, most especially his father. Gods, he missed his father. Erik had always looked up to his father, Eddard Stark. The man was a second son who had a responsibility thrust upon him which he never expected to have. A man of honor with a strong sense of justice, his father was a kind man in Erik’s eyes, a just man. Even if the man had fathered a bastard on a woman, his lord father had ruled well and the north had remained rather peaceful and prosperous after Robert’s Rebellion, under Eddard’s rule. The north had flourished under his father’s leadership, Robert’s Rebellion, followed years later by the Greyjoy rebellion had made Eddard realized how the north’s power had began to plateau and he had worked tirelessly to bring the north back to a state of power. 

But more than his father, Erik missed his twin brother, Robb. Gods, it hurt so bad to be parted from his brother. The one who was his other half, his equal and opposite in everything. The calm to his fury and words of wisdom to his reckless actions. Though, as much as he missed his twin, he strangely felt like Robb was with him and sometimes, when he slept, it felt like he was with Robb. It reminded Erik of a warg connection though he couldn’t change into Robb’s skin and control him like he could a common wolf or dog. No, it was more like they had a weak mental connection, perhaps they could speak to one another? 

Erik wasn’t sure and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out either.

Erik was snapped out of his thoughts by a hand placed on his shoulder, a sad smile on Dacey’s thin lips, “I’m sure my mother would appreciate that. You’re a good man Erik Stark, Lyra would have been lucky to be you wife.”

The fond thoughts of his family dashed as grief rolled over him in a powerful new wave. “It’s my fault she is dead. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t save her…” the crushing weight of his loss felt like he was carrying the sky and heavens on his shoulders alone.

“You avenged her death and saved her little sister, _my_ little sister. For that, I cannot thank you enough.” Her attempt to cheer him up did little to lighten his spirits. She seemed to notice and changed the subject, “though my mother was none too pleased when she found you in my sister’s bed. Come to think of it, neither was I.” Dacey taunted, palming the handle of her mace with a challenging glint in her brown eyes.

Erik worked hard not to growl at Dacey’s words, as he turned to face her. “That may be so but I _did_ vow to make her mine so her honor wouldn’t be tarnished. Now I’ll never get the chance…” Erik set his jaw in a hard line and turned away from the older woman, his wolfsblood still churning but slowly starting to settle within his veins as the conversation died out.

Behind them, crewmen busied themselves about the dark grey decks of _Gypsy Danger_ as the longship raced across the bay. Erik wanted to take the fastest route home, so he intended to sail for the tidal flats that were just north of Deepwood Motte. From there he’d go on foot around the Deepwood and make his way southeast through the Wolfswood to Winterfell. He had already commanded his crew to sail for the Saltspear after he made it to the green land. He’d expect his men to be at Moat Cailin before he arrived from Winterfell, with the _Gypsy_ safely beached on the banks of the Fever.

“Perhaps you could use the ships that _I_ captured to better protect the bay in my absence.” Erik said after awhile, a hint of humor in his tone as his crooked smirk split his ruggedly handsome features.

Within the past year he’d spent on Bear island, he had captured over fifty ships from the Ironborn and burned and scuttled over twenty more. With his aid, Bear Island became able to better interact with the rest of the north and the realm. Capturing the Ironborn ships also helped strengthen the north’s military power by bolstering their navy, albeit by a small margin, bringing a fleet to Bear Island for the first time since Brandon the Burner. Something his father had written to Erik, thanking his son for this boon.

Of course, that was until the Ironborn managed to surprise them in the dark of night, burning most of the captured fleet and making off with Lyra and Jorelle Mormont, along with several other woman of Bear Island. Erik, who had been involved with Lyra for sometime before her kidnapping, gathered what men he could, took all the ships that were still seaworthy, and gave chase to the raiders. He engaged them in a fierce naval battle along the Stony Shore and managed to rescue Jorelle before the Ironborn could have their way with the young girl but he was too late to prevent his love from being brutally raped and murdered.

His fury and wrath had ran rampant and wild. Sailing all the way to the Iron Islands, Erik sacked Old Wyk, putting the majority of House Drumm, the raiders who were responsible for the attack, to the sword. And after slaughtering the men who had kidnapped, raped and murdered his beautiful, sweet, lovely Lyra he claimed their sword, _Red Rain_ , though the sword was a poor consolation for his lover’s life.

“You forget that the damned squids destroyed most of the ships you stole from them. Not to mention the ones we lost sacking Old Wyk,” Dacey unfortunately pointed out, “With you taking the _Gypsy_ as your own, Bear Island is left with less than twenty ships to protect the bay.”

The truth of her words caused a frown to marr Erik’s handsome features, “Aye, I’ll speak to my father about it when I arrive at Winterfell. Who knows, perhaps I can convince him to petition the construction of a fleet. It has been too long since Bear Island has had any naval power and I’m sure Lord Greystark would agree.” Even as he said it, Erik wasn’t sure he could convince his father, though he knew Lord Greystark would be more than eager to bolster his fleet. “Though the sudden construction of a larger navy could be perceived by the southrons as preparations for war.” With the realm currently at a state of fragile peace, somewhat due to Erik’s own actions - though civil war seemed to be inevitable for the Iron Islands, with or without his actions. He didn’t want to deal any more damage to the realm and be the one reasonable for shattering that peace.

“Well, if anyone can convince Lord Stark I’m sure it’d be his most cherished son returning home!” Chuckled a nearby member of the crew who had been listening in on their conversation. “After all, what lord wouldn’t love seeing one of his three beloved sons returning home to him?”

Rounding quickly on the man, his stormy grey eyes flashed with anger. The already cold air of the Bay of Ice seemed to grow almost frigid as Erik struggled to reign in his inner wolf. “ _Four_ ,” Erik corrected through clenched teeth, out of the corner of his eye he saw Dacey shift uncomfortably.

“What’s that? Responded the crewman, who was a man of average height and build with rat brown hair and dull brown eyes. The man’s name was Herald Cooker, if he was remembering it correctly.

“I am one of the _four_ sons of Eddard Stark, I have three brothers.” His settled wolfsblood was now fully stirred once more, this time by the crewman’s ignorance.

“You talkin’ ‘bout that bastard?” That was the wrong thing to say.

Erik was as quick as lightning with the draw of his sword, like a crimson bolt which stopped just short of Herald’s throat, _Red Rain_ flashed through the air. The tip of the blade only millimeters from puncturing the man’s jugular and killing him where he stood. “A bastard he may be but Jon Snow is my father’s son, he has my father’s blood, and he is my brother. Be wise and _think_ before you speak ill of a wolf of my pack again.” Erik spoke in a half growl.

Before Herald could respond, Erik had sheathed _Red Rain_ and marched to his cabin; the captain’s quarters. A scowl maring his scarred face, his shoulders tense with the raging storm of emotions that he was feelings. He was irritated with his father for calling him back to Winterfell when his lovely Lyra was not yet even cold in the ground. Had he no concern for Erik’s own feelings? Erik knew that was a foolish thought, for his father had always been a kind one. It was most likely due to Erik’s actions at Wyktown that his father had demanded he return home.

Erik stomped into his cabin, undid the belt around his waist and slumped into the cushioned chair. He slammed his sheathed sword down on the desk with a heavy **_thud!_** as he did. He was thankful for the solitude of his own cabin. _Gypsy Danger_ had become his personal haven after Lyra died and he locked himself in his cabin, crying and raging for hours on end, totally wrecking the room. After that night, Erik hadn’t spent much time in his cabin, preferring to be on the decks of his ship.

The _Gypsy_ wasn’t a very large ship, only spacious enough to carry around thirty crewmen and three months worth of food and supplies. But she was outfitted with four scorpions, which were mounted on the deck. The scorpions were something Erik had been familiar with since he had been obsessed with the stories of Aegon the Conqueror and the dragon riders that followed, as a child. To not only see the fabled weapons that had been able to shoot dragons out of the sky, but to now be the owner of four of the mechanical weapons, Erik was sure his brothers would be beyond jealous.

Erik knew as soon as he saw _Gypsy Danger_ docked at Old Wyk, it wasn’t a originally an Ironborn ship and that’s what attracted him to the ship which was now his. The _Gypsy_ wasn’t the largest ship but she was quick and nimble, and her lighter, faster firing scorpions made her a threat to all other trebuchet armed warships favored in the south. With a dark grey deck and hull, and snow white sails, it’s like she was made for House Stark and Erik had been destined to have her.

He looked around his cabin, a trunk filled with assorted wools, furs, and leathers rested at the foot of a good sized bed covered in untidy sheets and furs. He sat at his desk which had a slight wobble because he broke one of the legs in his grief and rage. That along with the other two cushioned chairs which once matched the one he sat in. They were thrown overboard in Erik’s fury.

With a sigh, Erik buried his face in his hands, overcome by all the emotions coursing through him. Hopefully his return home was a happy occasion, old gods knew he needed a relief from the pain that was still stinging in his heart. Erik theorized time spent back in his childhood home and surrounded by people who loved him, would help ease the ache in his chest. For now he could only hope, as Erik Stark made his way to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, please let me know what y’all think about this.
> 
> For important characters introduced in this chapter,
> 
> Dacey Mormont - 20
> 
> Herald Cooker - 27 (he’s not important but he’ll appear again)


	2. Chapter 1.2 - Eddard I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned receives a letter from Bear Island and informs his children of their brother’s pending arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly tweaked a few things in this chapter. Added a bit more to the flashback of Ned and Jon Snow and built upon Ned’s thoughts of Robert’s Rebellion.

## Chapter 1.2

### ⇔ Eddard I ⇔

Eddard Stark, the current Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was never meant to hold either of those two titles, sat in the solar which had never been meant for him, along with his wife, the wife that should have been his brother’s.

His brow furrowed as his mind turned back. His thoughts returned to near five-and-ten years ago, when everything had changed.

_A silver prince had ran off with his sister and his brother had rode to King’s Landing to see her returned to the north. Soon after, his father joined his elder brother - in death._

_They had both died so far south. In the viper’s nest. The den of the Mad Dragon King._

_They said his father was burnt alive by green wildfire. His brother, forced to watch, straggling himself in an attempt to save their father._

_For that, Ned had called his banners. He had returned north and taken his father’s place - his brother’s place - as Lord of Winterfell. And he had marched south to avenge his father and brother and to rescue his sister._

_Ned had married his brother’s betrothed, and taken her father’s troops south._

_He fought at the Stoney Sept against Jon Connington’s host. He fought at the Trident against Rhaegar Targaryen and his army, where Robert killed the Last Dragon with a blow from his warhammer._

_He then marched on King’s Landing and took the city, which was already being sacked by Tywin Lannister’s men._

_That is where everything went wrong. The royal family was slaughtered. Murdered and butchered worse than cattle. And Robert had condoned the slaughter._

_So Ned took his army and rode south, to Storm’s End, where he forced Mace Tyrell and his remaining host to bend the knee before finally setting his sights on Dorne and the rumored location of his sister._

_But when he arrived, Ned was greeted with nothing but sorrow and death. And after the events at that tower, Ned finally returned north. Hoping to never travel south of the Neck again._

_As he marched his armies back north all Ned could think of was what he had lost._

_His sister was dead._

_His sister was dead, as was his brother and his father. His best friend had condoned the murder of an innocent woman and her two children. He could not bare the sight of Robert, not even with Lyanna’s death weighing on his soul. Robert be damned if he allow the man he once considered a brother near Jon. Not after little Aegon…_

_Not after Robert had smiled. No._

“Ned,” his wife’s voice pulled him from his darker thoughts and back to the present.

He turned to face her. His wife was beautiful, she always had been, even after birthing five children. Her fair skin, like ivory, and her long auburn hair tied in a simple braid down her back. Her deep blue eyes shining with a knowing look. A faint smile playing on her lips.

Ned returned it with one of his own.

She shifted towards him a bit and Ned raised his eyebrows suggestively. Cat simply leaned against him, her long fingers tracing across his chest, her lips drawing very close to his —

**_Knock! Knock!_ **

“Lord Stark!” Luwin’s voice called from outside his solar door.

Cat let out a huff of annoyance, removing herself from Ned’s person and returning her seat at his side.

“Come in, Luwin.” he answered and the grey man entered.

He must have noticed something because Ned saw the tips of the old maester’s ears turn scarlet. Despite this, Luwin stepped forward.

“A letter, my lord,” he retrieved the letter from his sleeve. “From Bear Island.”

Now _that_ caught Ned’s attention. There could only be one reason any letter from Bear Island could be arriving at this time. His son.

_“Erik.”_

“Thank you Luwin, can you please fetch Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel and bring them here?” The tireless man nodded, “thank you.”

The old man quickly left the room to go about his task.

Ned turned to his wife but she spoke first “It must be about _him_. About our boy.” She smiled weakly albeit hopefully.

Ned felt a wave of guilt overtake him. He should have told Cat about what all their son has been up to for the past six years but if she found out he had gone north of the Wall… well, Cat hadn’t relinquished her southron Gods, even after nearly fifteen years of living in the north. Ned was sure she wouldn’t take it well to learn their son had gone beyond the Wall, into the lands of the Old Gods.

Ned nodded, returning his gaze to the bear of House Mormont pressed into green wax which kept the letter sealed.

Luwin was back in record time, he, Ser Rodrik and his nephew, Jory Cassel, all stepped inside Ned’s solar and the heavy door shut behind them.

Ned showed them the letter, “This letter just arrived from Bear Island.” He explained. 

Noticing both Cassel’s were now completely interested.

“I have yet to open it,” Ned placed the letter in front of him on his large desk.

“Well you should bloody well open it, my lord!” Ser Rodrik exclaimed, a bit too enthusiastically. The stout man cleared his throat, “Sorry, my lord, my lady. I’m just… I hope to hear the lad is safe and sound.”

Ned nodded and saw Jory did as well, watching with well veiled interest.

“It’s fine, I shall open and read it now.”

Ned held his breath as he cracked open the green wax bear seal of House Mormont. The letter that had _just_ arrived from Bear Island. He was currently sitting in his solar, the solar that was never meant to be his, with his lady wife, Catelyn, a wife that was also never meant to be his. 

Maester Luwin, Jory and Ser Rodrik Cassel; his captain of the guard and master-at-arms respectively, were now also in the room. Briefly, Ned wondered how Brandon would have run Winterfell but he quickly shelved those thoughts away to the back of his mind.

Everyone watched him with curious gazes, all eager to hear news from Bear Island. With good reason too.

Over the past year, Lady Maege had written to Eddard on several occasions. The first was around ten moons ago, perhaps longer, Maege had claimed that Ned’s own long lost son, Erik Stark, had arrived on the northern shore of Bear Island on a battered boat filled with the corpses of wildlings.

It was the first confirmed sighting of his son in over two years since Howland Reed had reported Erik’s disappearance from Greywater Watch. And while Eddard was not pleased to hear his son had somehow gone north of the Wall, he was relieved to know Erik was safe and alive.

He wanted to tell Catelyn about it but since Maege claimed and Erik refused to speak about it with her, Eddard was forced to shelf the issue until a later time. So he chose not tell Catelyn about how their son had arrived on Bear Island, only letting her know that that was where he was and that he was alive and well.

The second letter he received from the She-Bear was less then three weeks after the first, concerning Erik’s odd behavior both on and off the battlefield. When Eddard learned about some of Erik’s questionable actions concerning his enemies, he was awestruck to say the least. He couldn’t quite believe some of the things Lady Maege had written about his son in her letters.

Though there was one of the letters that just about had Ned go completely grey haired. Lady Maege claimed that she had caught Erik in her daughter, Lyra’s bed. Maege wasn’t angry however, explaining how she had watched their relationship slowly blossom, jesting that they tried to conceal it. _“Nothing slips past the She-Bear,”_ Ned had mused.

Barely a moon ago, Eddard received a letter from Maege concerning the attack on Bear Island and the kidnapping of her two daughters and Erik’s reaction. Eddard became distraught, unsure of if his son would survive or worse if he would lose his love - a pain Ned knew too well. Ned cursed his son’s recklessness and prayed to the old gods every day that his son survive and return to them unharmed.

And when word of the sack of Wyktown reached Winterfell, it was almost enough to blanch his entire beard from salt-and-pepper to stark white. Eddard _knew_ that his son was responsible for the act. An act that could be perceived as an declaration of war. Eddard also knew that his son’s actions would have repercussions, repercussions which would ultimately fall on his shoulders as Warden of the North and Erik’s lord father.

Sighing, Eddard began to read the letter from Lady Maege. She wrote to inform him that Erik had heeded his summons and had left for Winterfell before the letter was sent. Eddard’s heart swelled with joy knowing his son was alive and well and was returning home after so many years of being away. But the rest of the letter was far from heartwarming and Eddard’s grey eyes hardened like stone as he read over the inked words.

“What is it Ned?” His wife asked, she appeared to be worried of the worst when she saw Eddard’s expression harden. “Is Erik…?”

Ned shook his head, answering her unfinished question and she seemed to relax slightly but not completely, sensing something worse than their son's demise had occurred. “Maege writes that Erik has heeded my summons. He has set sail for the mainland and is on his way home.” Catelyn’s demeanor still didn’t settle, she knew him too well.

“Well?” Rodrik’s voice boomed, “Was the boy the one responsible for the sack of Wyktown?”

Ned frowned, it seemed word had also spread to the people of Winterfell. He shouldn’t be surprised, he didn’t doubt that the entire north knew of his son’s _visit_ to the Iron Islands by now - if not most of Westeros. Ned would have to answer for this, he knew.

“Aye, Erik led the sack on Wyktown. Lady Maege wrote to inform me that Erik managed to rescue her daughter Jorelle and many other captive women, un- unfortunately,” Ned’s voice faltered and he saw the worry fill Catelyn’s face while Jory and Rodrik both adapted rather serious expressions, understanding what he was failing to say. “Unfortunately, Erik was unable to rescue Lyra Mormont in time.”

Catelyn gasped, clasping her hands to her lips as tears welled at the corners of her crystal blue eyes. Ned reached out and took one of her small hands in his larger calloused palms.

“Our poor boy,” Catelyn whispered barely audible.

Eddard _had_ told Catelyn about Erik’s involvement with Lyra Mormont, Catelyn had mixed feelings about their son’s actions in the bedchamber but when Maege had mentioned Erik vowed to wed Lyra after seeking Ned’s approval, Cat had given her blessing.

To know Erik had lost someone he cared for deeply at such a young age, well, it more than upset Ned, though he hid his distress. His wife was more open with her feelings on the matter however.

Ned frowned and squeezed Catelyn’s hand reassuringly, he was quite distraught over these events. His son had lost the woman he had _willingly_ vowed to take as a wife. Maege had described it as _“...he growled and barked, claiming her as his. He begged me for her hand even after he had taken her maidenhead. I think your boy is blind in love with my daughter, Ned…”_ the thought made his frown deepen. His son had been in love with Lyra Mormont and she was stolen from him.

Eddard would have to inform Robert of this, no doubt the King would already know of the state the Iron Islands was in. Hells, he probably knew of the sack of Wyktown already! It was imperative that Ned explain the situation before Robert lost his head and stormed north demanding Ned answer for his son’s actions. If war broke out because of this it would all be on Ned’s head. He sighed, shaking those thoughts from his head. Robert, even after all these years of being apart and somewhat at ends, was still one of best friends. Ned had no doubt the King would side in his favor over the Ironborn, especially since his son had the right of it to begin with.

Making up his mind on the matter of the Ironborn, Eddard decided he’d write to Robert after Erik arrived, that way he’d get the absolute truth of the matter from his son’s mouth. Nodding to himself, Ned began debating on if he should inform his other children of Erik’s pending arrival. With a soft smile, Ned made his decision rather easily.

“Jory, please go find my children and bring them here. I’m sure they’ll want to hear the news of their brother’s return,” Ned ordered his captain of the guard, who simply nodded in response before turning and exiting the solar to find Eddard’s children.

After Jory left, Ned dismissed Luwin and Ser Rodrik while he and Catelyn waited for their children to arrive. 

“Our boy is coming home Ned,” Catelyn whispered and he hummed in response, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. “But he’s not our boy anymore, the world has ripped his heart out and smashed it into pieces.” Tears welled at her eyes and Ned was quick to brush them aside as they rolled down her cheeks.

“Erik will have changed, yes. Life will have hardened him and forced him to grow, Howland told us what the _green_ can do to those with the _sight_ Cat,” in truth Eddard didn’t fully understand it but his son possessed the ancient abilities the First Men had learned from the Children of the Forest. It briefly led him to wonder if his other children possessed similar abilities to Erik. “but he is still our boy, that will _never_ change.” Ned stated, Erik would _always_ be his son. A Stark of Winterfell. Always.

After a few moments, four of Eddard’s five trueborn children were standing in his solar, with inquisitive looks plastered on their faces. Eddard’s brow furrowed as a frown etched its way across his solemn features, as he remembered his bastard son, Jon Snow, was in King’s Landing, squiring under Ser Barristan Selmy.

The boy had been in the capitol ever since he was ten-and-two. Ned still remembered Jon demanding to be allowed to go south shortly after Erik had been sent to the Neck. Ned hadn’t wanted to let him go but Jon argued his case well.

_“It’s not like I’m heir or anyone important,” his boy had said, his dark eyes flashing angrily. “I’m a bastard, nothing more. I have no place amongst your household.”_

_The boy’s words had stung terribly. Making Ned’s heart ache for Jon Snow._

_“You do have a place amongst my household Jon,” Ned had insisted. “You are my son.”_

_“I am a bastard.” The boy had argued back. “Robb and Arya treat me well enough but Sansa practically ignores me and Lady Stark hates me!”_

_“She doesn’t hate you,” Ned had muttered but he knew how weak it sounded._

_Jon simply eyed him seriously, “Erik treated me like I belonged. Erik treat me like a brother, not a bastard but you sent him to foster.”_

_Ned could hear the accusing tone in Jon’s voice._

_“If I am truly your son, like Robb and Erik, whom you allowed to foster, why won’t you let me go to the Wall?”_

_“You are too young,” Ned had replied, not wanting to explain to Jon of his half-brother’s abilities._

_“Then let me go south,” Jon had countered quickly._

_Fear had clutched Ned’s heart instantly and he stammered for a response, “What?”_

_“Everytime I ask to join the Night’s Watch, you and Uncle Benjen say that I wouldn’t know what I’d be giving up.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Ned’s gaze._

_Gods, he looked like Lya even back then… but still, if only because he knew the truth, Ned could see the boy’s -_

_“So let me find out.”_

_Ned stared at his son,_ his _son. “I could perhaps send you to foster with one of the northern lords. I know Lord Greystark wouldn’t mind, I think he even mentioned - “_

_“No,” Jon interrupted, “Father, I’ve already spent two-and-ten years of my life in the north, I know the north. So, if I can’t go to the Wall then send me south. Let me go somewhere it doesn’t matter that I’m a bastard. Like Dorne or squire me to a knight from the Reach or the Vale.”_

Ned had protested against heavily but as soon as Catelyn had found out, she had written a letter to her sister, who had mentioned it to her husband Denys Arryn, who later mentioned it in a letter to the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, who read the note near Robert - the king - which led to Jon squiring under one of the most renowned knights of the Seven Kingdoms, the current Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy.

Gods, Ned had _never_ worried so much as he had in the past six years. Between Erik’s fosterage turned disappearance turned near declaration of war and Jon being in the center of the viper pit of a capitol, under the eyes of the queen and Robert, perhaps even worse, for nearly three years now. Both Ser Barristan and the Kingslayer we’re familiar with - no. Everything is fine, no suspects Jon to be anything but a young man aspiring to be a knight.

“Thank you Jory, you can go.” Ned nodded to the man and he also left the room, leaving six members of the Stark family in the solar along. _“Only four of my six children.”_ Ned reminded himself both sternly and somberly.

Eddard eyed each of his children; his eldest son and heir, Robb, stood behind his younger brother, Bran, his third trueborn son, both boys had their mother’s auburn hair and blue eyes to contrast their half-brother and wayward brother’s strong Stark features - though Ned could only imagine how his other two sons looked now, after years away. His daughters, Sansa and Arya were opposites in everything, from their appearance, with Sansa favoring her mother’s Tully heritage while Arya took heavily to Eddard’s Stark blood, to their personalities, Sansa the picture of a lady but Arya had much of the “wolfsblood” in her, akin to her elder brother Erik.

_“Erik and Arya are much like Brandon and Lyanna,”_ Eddard thought to himself with a sad smile. Hopefully his children will not share similar fates as his siblings.

“What is it, Father?” Robb asked with a knowing look in his brilliant blue eyes.

Ned had spoken to Robb about his twin brother, Erik, on several occasions. Ned had told his eldest son what all he knew of his brother’s adventures over the years and Robb asked of his wayward twin frequently. Ned could tell he longed to be reunited with Erik as much as Eddard did, the two boys had always been close - they were twins after all!

And with Jon being gone as well, Robb had devoted himself to his studies and was coming into his duties as heir of Winterfell in great strides. Ned was _very_ proud of his son, though he’d have to start looking for a betrothal for him sooner rather then later. Robb was nearly five-and-ten for old gods’ sake! The boy was his heir and would soon be a man grown in a few years. Perhaps he should look into betrothals for Erik and Sansa as well. Though perhaps he should allow Erik time to grieve his lost love. And there was still some time for Arya and Bran, Ned dreaded forcing his children into any betrothal like his late sister Lyanna was.

“Yes, Father,” Sansa urged, “why have you gathered us here?”

It seemed like she had heard the rumors of her elder brother’s actions on the Iron Islands, her eyes betrayed her curiosity. While Sansa hadn’t expressed much interest in her brother’s travels and adventures over the years, she was still curious as to what happened to her older brother. Sansa and Erik had often played acting as Sansa’s bodyguard when they were younger, so perhaps that was all she could remember of her brother.

“Your brother, Erik is currently making his way to Winterfell,” Eddard admitted to his children, watching them to gauge their reactions, his grey eyes hard as stone, betraying none of his own thoughts and feelings.

His son Robb was more than pleased, a big grin spread over his face and his bright blue eyes twinkled with joy. Eddard could see similar reactions from his other trueborn children with Arya letting out an excited cheer and while Sansa had a more tempered reaction, she was clearly pleased her wayward brother was returning home.

“Erik’s coming home?!” Arya was beyond ecstatic and jumped up and down with glee.

Bran however was oddly quiet. Ned couldn’t fault the boy for it though. He was only four when Erik had left, barely old enough to remember his older brother but his siblings, mother, and (especially) Eddard himself had told Bran stories of Erik over the years. Eddard hoped that Bran and Erik would have a chance to bond since Bran was much too young when Erik left all those years ago.

“Aye, Lady Maege has written to inform me that he has already left Bear Island. He was probably just reaching the mainland around the time I received her letter.” Ned explained, “He should be here within a weeks time, perhaps longer if he is delayed.” Gods, Ned hoped he wasn’t delayed. He missed his son terribly.

“Do you think he’s bringing us back anything from his adventures?” Arya piped up almost exploding with excitement.

Ned frowned and looked over to his wife out of the corner of his eye. She met his sideways glance and Ned hesitated before focusing back to his youngest daughter, “I’m sure your brother will have thought of you while he was away.” 

Eddard prayed his illusive answer satisfied his daughter and when she beamed with glee he let out a silent sigh of relief, now praying Erik had gotten his younger sister a gift, least she wreck havoc across the keep.

“I’m sure you brother will also have many exciting stories to you once he’s returned as well,” Catelyn spoke up then, though she eyed Ned dangerously.

He couldn’t blame her, he refused to tell her most of what Erik had written him, she didn’t understand he was doing it for her good. She’d likely go into hysterics if she learned of their son’s journey beyond the Wall. Eddard himself didn’t even know the extent of _that_ venture. Erik had refused to write about it and according to Maege, he had refused to speak of it with her or anyone else for that matter. It left Ned no choice but to not mention any of it to his wife, until now.

“Yes, I’m sure Erik has many tales to tell. Not even I know where all he has gone or what all he has done,” Eddard admitted to not only his children but he was also aiming the comment at his wife. “According to what Lady Maege Mormont says in her letters, Erik has refused to speak of his journey with almost everyone.”

Catelyn seemed surprised by his revelation, as did most of his children. Though Arya grinned triumphantly, “I’ll get him to tell me! I’ll be the first to know all about Erik’s adventures!” She declared with determination.

“I want to hear Erik’s adventures!” Bran blurted out, before blushing at his sudden exclamation. “I can’t wait to meet my brother.” He explained shyly.

“Alright, alright,” Ned tried to settle his children. “Let’s pray that Erik decides to grace us with his tales,” he smiled warmly at his children. “Alright off to bed now,” Ned stood, motioning his children out of the door, “Not you, Robb, you stay here. Cat, will you take the others to bed.”

His lady wife nodded, knowing what he meant to tell their son. She gave Robb a kiss on his temple before guiding their younger children out of the solar, leaving Ned alone with Robb.

“Is there anything else, Father?” Robb asked, and Ned’s heartwarmed despite what he was about to tell his son.

“Yes,” Ned frowned deeply, “your brother has recently lost someone _very_ close to him. Her death may affect his behavior. So I want you to keep an eye on your brother once he arrives.” Eddard chose not to elaborate upon his words and a stern glare shoot down any potential questions that his son may have had.

He sent the boy to bed and let out a long deep breath. Despite all the sorrow his son had recently went through, Eddard felt like Erik’s return to Winterfell would be a joyful occasion. And Eddard was sure that time spent with his family and around those who loved him would be good for Erik. For now, Eddard could only wait as his son made his way for Winterfell.

Now then, Ned had a few letters to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what y’all think of the revisions thus far. Next chapter will be all fresh content!
> 
> As for characters introduced this chapter:
> 
> Jory Cassel - 24
> 
> Rodrick Cassel - 53(roughly)
> 
> Luwin - 60+


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